


Ze Corned Beef Does Not Run Away From Ze Cabbage!

by BrattyAmericat



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrattyAmericat/pseuds/BrattyAmericat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France took England's virginity long ago, a fact that he delights in bringing up to tease him. Drunk, England gets annoyed with the harmless teasing, and decides to use a spell to reduce France back to the age he was right before he lost his virginity, because in his intoxicated mind, if he took Francis' virginity, they'd be even, and then he couldn't tease him about it anymore. The problem is... Francis turns back younger then England had expected him to be... young enough that he's not too comfortable with going through with his plan, drunk or not.</p><p>On the other hand, upon realizing what England had done to him and why, France (who is still mentally an adult), is all for the idea, and pulls a full out 'Pepe Le Pew' and tries to chase England down for sex, despite his protests. </p><p>Note: This story is humor, so no worries.  There's not going to be any 'Shota' in it.... but damn if France ain't gonna try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wanker!

It had been a thousand years since it had happened. A thousand, bloody years since England had foolishly spread his legs for that wine drinking, whore of frog, giving his virginity to the more experienced, French teen in a youthful, drunken stupor, and yet the man still would not let him live it down! 

Arthur fumed at the indignity of it all, his dark hooded cape flowing behind him as he made his way through his dank cellar, where all of his magic was done, a slight sway to his steps thanks to his earlier visit to the pub, which was where his problem had (like it often did) begun.

Referring to Arthur as, 'his little virgin' at the pub, in front of everyone! Like it some how made Francis better then him in some way... Ha! He'd show that frog! Give him a taste of his own medicine, he surely would. Stumbling, but not falling, the blond Englishman manage to make it to the podium that his most prized spell book was stored on. 

Setting the flats of his hand on the cover, the former Empire couldn't help but grin, as he always did, at the feel power that he felt in the pages below his fingers, and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sensation before carefully opening it, and flipping through the ancient pages. 

It took a while for England to find a suitable spell for his revenge against the annoying Frenchmen, largely because his vision was blurry and unfocused thanks to all the ale, but eventually he did discovered the perfect enchantment. Not really surprising, really, since Arthur had managed to collect a spell or hex for just about anything during his long life.

Chuckling lowly, the Brit's grin stretched wickedly wide as the man quickly made a mental note of the items that he would need to make it happen. Eye of newt, rat's tail, a spoonful of gnats... had France (or anyone else who had ever tasted Arthur's cooking, for that matter,) had read ingredients, the man probably would have likely mistook it as a shopping list for one of England's home cooked meals.

Being well practiced in the dark arts, the brew was soon mixed, and Arthur looked down into the bubbling, brown liquid that he was stirring before repeating the spell he had chosen, “Go back to before, until I am your first, for ever more.”

Alright, sure... it didn't sound all that fancy of a spell, but based on the words, it obviously was designed to do what he wanted, and that was all that mattered.

Repeating the phase over and over, the brew eventually began to grow, and suddenly went up in a puff of smoke, just like his cooking typically did, except that it was a good thing in magic, signally that the spell had took.

Grinning, England's light chuckle grew louder, and for effect, the island nation thew his hands above his head and peered to the heavens as it became a full out, sinister laughter... and then he clenched his stomach, bent over to the side, and threw up, still being very much drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I, um, kinda filled my own kink meme request. *sweat drop* I meant to fill someone else's, I swear, but I got inspired. :P
> 
> As for the odd title, it's a Pepe Le Pew quote that's also kind of a pun, since France sometimes insults England by calling him 'ros-bif' and, apparently, the French word for 'cabbage' is considered a term of endearment, so.... /shrug


	2. Clanger!

Despite a massive hangover, England did not miss the first train to Paris. 

Grinning ear to ear, Arthur absently brushed the wrinkles out of his green sweater vest in a attempt to straighten up from his early morning rush as he made his way up the steps of the old building, to where he knew France's city flat to be. 

Pounding loudly on the door, the Brit wince as his headache pounded right along with it, but the chaotic shuffling and panicking that came from the inside shortly later was enough to make Arthur forget about the pain. Apparently the Frog had still been asleep, and his loud knocking had awoken him to discover the little surprised that England had set up late last night.

Waiting excitedly for Francis to answer, Arthur wondered how old that old French dog had become!

'Sixteen? Fifteenth, perhaps? Exactly how old had France been when he had first lost his virginity, anyway?,' England pondered, but his thoughts came to a halt as the door finally creak open to reveal.... no one.

Blinking in surprised at the empty spot before him, where France should have been standing, the confused English man finally looked down when he heard a heavily accent voice, much higher pitched then normal.

“L'Angleterre! Dieu merci que vous êtes ici! I have turned into un petit enfant!” Came the panic mixture of English and French, as the, now small blonde boy, wrapped his tiny fists in Arthur's over sized sweater and gave the material a desperate tug. 

Staring down at Francis, who now could be no more then five or six years old, physically, and was wearing nothing more then an over sized, button up, silk, sleep shirt that hung loosely on his small frame, Arthur balked. “Bloody hell, you're just a baby!”

“I know, that is what I just said!” Francis scowled and crossed his arms, annoyed, but on his current face, the expression just looked like a cute pout instead. He was really too adorable.

Holding up his hands, as if to stop Francis from approaching even though he hadn't moved from his spot, Arthur shook his head. “I can't do it. I just can't do it.” He said to himself. “Clanger! You weren't suppose to be a blooming infant!” England huffed in frustration, and the adult trapped in a child's body's eyes narrowed.

“Arthur.” Francis stated, his firm voice now little more then a squeak, and waited until he had the (currently) taller man's attention. “Did you have something to do with my current condition, ros-bif?” He asked coldly, and England found himself having to look away, a blush on his face at being lectured by a... er, child.

Reaching up, Arthur absently scratched the back of his head, feeling awkward now that the taunting about Francis being unable to return to his current body until he, England, took his renewed virginity, no longer seeming appropriate. “Um, yes, well...” The Brit began, but the little French nation cut him off with a sigh. 

Pushing the door open farther, the long haired blonde boy stepped to the side, and waved for the other to enter. “Perhaps it is best if we discuss this inside.” He suggested to his long time rival, since he obviously had information on what had happened to him.

Not expecting France to be so civil after what he had done, a brief shocked expression cross England's face, but he quickly composed himself, clearing his throat as he did. “Ah, right then. We'll just go inside, I'll whip us up a quick spot of tea, and we can have a nice, calm chat...” He said politely as he stepped in, not willing to be out 'gentlemaned' by the frog... and fell right on his face.

Pulling back his foot, Francis looked down at Arthur, who laid face down on his hard, wooden floor, and snorted. The young nation's tripping of the other country had nothing to do with his age reduction making him more immature... He just felt that the stupid limey had just deserved it.


	3. Duffer!

Once England and France's traditional yelling and trading of insults had been finished, awkward as it was with their current age difference, Arthur had brewed a fresh pot of tea, just as he had previously suggested. With a batch of cookies Francis had just made the day before handy, thew two rivals sat down at the kitchen table and enjoyed their snacks as the Englishman uncomfortably explain the spell he had used.

“I see.” Francis nodded once the story was done, while England focused his attention on stirring his tea rather then looking at the other. “So... you used a spell to make my wondrous adult into that of a child, because you could not stand the idea of someone else having been my first?” He added with a raised eyebrow, his lips pulling into a small smirk that now looked out of place of him, and Arthur sputtered, spitting out the sip of tea he had just taken.

“I said no such thing!” Arthur defended, face red, and wiped his mouth clean with a napkin. 

Francis let out a giggle in reply and set down his half eaten cookie on his plate. “Oh, mon cher... no need to be embarrassed. In fact... I think it is sweet.” He tilted his head slightly to the side and smiled sweetly at the Brit as he slumped in his chair.

The Englishman flushed a little in reply. “Sweet? Well, I don't know if I would call it sweet - Crikey Moses!” He then exclaimed, shoving back away from the table so hard that his chair crashed into the cabinets behind him with a loud bang. “Be careful where you put your feet!”

“I was very careful about where I put them.” The small boy purred, leering at Arthur from across the table, and suddenly England realized that it had not been a mistake. “Good god, Francis! Are you some kind of duffer?! We can't do -THAT- while you're like -THIS-!” He gasped, jabbing his finger at the magically youthful body in emphasis. 

“Hohoho! And, tell me, my dear Angleterre, why ever not?” France asked coyly as he carefully slid off the chair. “Now that I have had some time to think about it, I find your desire to be my first endearing, and despite what I may look like now, I am STILL a capable, consenting adult...” He paused to grin and wiggle his eyebrows suggestively before continue, “... VERY consenting, so...”

“No. Just no.” England answered with a frown, moving his h  
“But Arthur! You said that the only way for the spell to be reversed was for you to be my first!” Francis whined, but Arthur cut him off quickly with another firm, “No.”ands in a quick, dismissive gesture as he warily watched the approaching boy. “This was a mistake. It's not going to happen.” He stated firmly.

 

Getting up out of the chair, the Englishman backed away, trying to keep some distance between them. “I'll figure out another way.” He huffed, narrowing his eyes some as he turned to walk around the table, trying to keep the piece of furniture safely between them, but Francis resiliently followed.

“But Arthur....” He tried again, slowly chasing the Brit around the table.

England snorted. “No 'but's. It ain't happening, Frog.” He snapped at the other, and when France was at the far side of the room, while he was closest to the door, the shaggy blond took his chances and darted towards the exit before the pervert in a child's body had the chance to try anything funny.


End file.
